


Faith, Hope, and Scotch

by atrata



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-01-08
Updated: 2007-01-08
Packaged: 2018-02-17 07:04:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 376
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2300750
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/atrata/pseuds/atrata
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Severus loses hope, and then finds it again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Faith, Hope, and Scotch

**Author's Note:**

> This is quick and dirty and relatively full of melodrama. At least I managed to delete the part where Fawkes is weeping healing emo tears into Snape's poisoned drink. This is for [](http://foreword.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://foreword.livejournal.com/)**foreword** , who said, "Hey, you should write Snape/Luna!" and I said, "No, I should write Snape/Fawkes!!" So I did.

*

Scotch. Murdering one's mentor, the greatest and most powerful wizard in the world, leader of the Light and bastion of all things good and pure and true in the world, was an occasion which called for scotch. Quite a lot of scotch, and fortunately, Severus was in no danger of running out. The next swallow he took tasted like water, and he knew he was well and truly fucked.

He ran an unsteady hand through his hair -- and unsteady was not a word which was supposed to apply to his hands -- and lit a cigarette. He was exhausted, bone-tired of everything and everyone. Tired of the risks and the sacrifices, too numerous to count and largely unimaginable in any event. And the only man who'd stood behind him regardless of those risks and sacrifices, Severus had killed. Brilliant.

He reached into his robes and withdrew a small vial. He placed it carefully on the wooden table, deliberately did not look at it, and then poured himself another drink. It had been one thing when Albus had been alive and insistent, the sheer strength of his convictions dragging Severus along behind him. He'd allowed himself to believe he could do this, to believe the risks were acceptable, the sacrifices worth it. But Albus was in the ground, dead and buried, and nothing could possibly be worth it.

He put the cigarette in his mouth, uncorked the vial, and tipped it into his drink. He almost didn't hear the tapping on the window, and he cursed under his breath when he did. His distraction was dangerous. Sending an owl was dangerous. Foolish. Absurdly risky. He ought to ignore it. He ought to drink, lie down, and sleep forever. It would be a welcome respite.

Instead he stubbed out the cigarette, went to the window, and froze. It wasn't an owl. It was Fawkes.

Severus stood and stared for much longer than was wise. Having the phoenix in his room was far more dangerous than any monitored owl post could ever be, but it meant... well. Frankly, Severus didn't care to think about what it might mean. He opened the window to let Fawkes in, and recognized the long-lost feeling in the pit of his stomach as hope.

 

**FIN.**


End file.
